


Marzo and the Melody

by Violetheart4081



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, Major Original Character(s), Minor Original Character(s), Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Original Universe, Originally Posted Elsewhere, Originally Posted on deviantART, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Original Character, POV Third Person, Singing, Sirens, Song Lyrics, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:55:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25194265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Violetheart4081/pseuds/Violetheart4081
Summary: "Innocent ones hidden beyondInvaders behind their sightForced to fleeA hunting spreeDestined to lose the fightMany fell to spears and flamesMagic could not help them nowRunning awayTo their dismayLest to the hunters they would bow"All his life, the melody has haunted Marzo. Intrigue would always stir in his mind whenever he heard it. He knew it came from the forest, but it was forbidden for anyone in his tribe to enter it, even the chieftain. However, when his curiosity proves to be too much, the tribesman decides to break the rules and venture inside. There, he certifies his own fate, and Marzo realizes the price to pay may be his very life.
Kudos: 1





	1. The Tribesman

_ Innocent ones hidden beyond  _

_ Invaders behind their sight  _

_ Forced to flee  _

_ A hunting spree  _

_ Destined to lose the fight _

The melody was calling to him again. The mysterious sounds of the dark whispered in his ears, but Marzo heard it through them, as if it was the only noise alive. The cool, brisk breeze flew into the tipi, waking him up even further. He rose from his spot, wanting to hear more of its wonderful sound. He moved his attention to the entrance flaps of the tent, and the song continued to call to him, carried by the breeze and beckoning him into the wilderness.

_ Many fell to spears and flames  _

_ Magic could not help them now  _

_ Running away  _

_ To their dismay  _

_ Lest to the hunters they would bow  _

Having heard the pleasant and ever so mesmerizing song many, many times, Marzo allowed it to freely dance with his thoughts. It revolved around his mind, making it the only thing he cared about, but his fun would soon come to an end - He brought himself back down to earth, shaking his head to remove his melodic trance and focus on the world once again. The young tribesman shook off the remainder of the blanket attached to him and, now standing up, snatched his nearby coat. It was fashioned out of comfy deer skin, and, once he put it on, would defend him from the nightly chills. He then grabbed onto his nearby spear, the one weapon he trusted the most, then went to the tipi’s exit, the edge of the grand forest right before him.

Innocent ones hidden beyond 

Invaders behind their sight 

Forced to flee 

A hunting spree 

Destined to lose the fight

Eager to reach the source of such an entrancing melody, Marzo made his way out of the tipi. Frosty chills immediately affected him, crawling on his skin and making his entire body shiver, but it did not matter - He would tolerate it and refuse to give in to the elements. He would bear through whatever he encountered to discover the song that was out of his reach all his life. Marzo’s determination broke free from their shackles, freely flowing through his veins, and he suddenly longed for the forest, feeling the want, no, _need_ to rush toward the trees.

He knew the melody resided there, and wished to be with it, no matter what.

When the tribesman found himself right outside of the tent, staring straight at the forest, he knew he was now one step closer to his beloved tune. However, a sudden noise made him flinch in fear. His senses were suddenly brought to a halt when he heard the sound of a tired voice.

“What are you doing, Marzo?” It said with a yawn.

To Marzo’s relief, he realized the voice belonged to his brother, Tapir. Relaxing his muscles, he turned to look at him inside of the tipi. His brother sat up on his elbows and stared at his sibling with baggy eyes, despite sleepiness appearing ready to impact him at any moment. He was peering at him with a flat, watchful gaze, and Marzo knew exactly why: Although he was younger, Tapir was always the serious one. He was always stern and adamant about gaining answers from Marzo, and would not release him until he gained what he wanted. Otherwise, he would report whatever suspicious behavior he was doing to the leader of the tribe, the Chieftain, and his council, which was _not_ what Marzo wanted him to do, especially tonight.

Keeping these facts about Tapir in mind, Marzo tore his eyes away from the other’s gaze. Being the adventurous one meant he was a rebel, defiant against any type of authority, including his brother’s ways. However, he stayed where he was, standing his ground as he examined the forest from afar. As a result, this only prompted his brother to begin pestering him for a response.

“You know I’m going to have to tell the tribe you went somewhere,” Tapir brought up. He knew he annoyed Marzo with the wily tone of his voice, but the phrase was more than just a reminder: His younger brother required the truth. “Where do you think you’re going, Marzo?” He repeated.

Marzo reluctantly looked back at his brother, who was in the middle of yawning. “Go back to sleep, Tapir,” he answered in a harsh whisper. However, he received nothing but a raised eyebrow and a smirk from him in response. Marzo tightened his grip on his spear in irritation about his brother’s stubbornness. “If you’re going to be concerned about me, can you at least lower your voice down?”

Tapir paused for a short moment, leaving his sibling in suspense before finally accepting his request. “Fine,” he whispered, “but only because I don’t want to wake the others up. Are you still going to tell me where you plan on going tonight?” Marzo refused to speak and turned away from Tapir, only invoking him to add a comment to his question. “Let me guess: The forest is singing to you again?”

Marzo hesitated at Tapir’s words. He became fearful over the risk of the truth being discovered, but he was able to himself to calm himself down. His plan was going to be uncovered one way or another. If it was going to be revealed, he would allow it to be revealed tonight.

“Its song has eluded me long enough,” he said with a huff. Nervousness loomed behind him, ready to disrupt Marzo’s preparations, but he would not let it overtake him. “I’m going to go into the forest tonight.”

An unimpressed Tapir was the only thing Marzo got as a response. “Isn’t that what you said all the other times when we were _younger_ and just _kids_? ‘I’m going to go to the forest when everybody’s gone. I’m going to run after the music one day and prove the whole tribe wrong,’ ” he mocked. “We’ve _grown_ , Marzo. We’re _older_. You know better than to joke around like a little kid. Plus, me and you both know nobody’s allowed anywhere near the forest.”

“I know.” All of a sudden, Marzo shifted his head to stare straight at his brother’s watchful eyes, piercing through his gaze and grasping onto his attention. “That’s why I’m being serious, Tapir. I’m not lying or backing out this time. I’ve been planning this for a while now, and I really am going to go into the forest. It’s a journey I’m willing to make, and I’m going to discover whatever secrets it’s hidden from me for so long.”

“You’re joking, right?” Tapir scoffed, but his expression quickly turned grim - Marzo’s stone-cold face told him he really was speaking the truth. “Holy Mother of the Goddess, you’re not joking.” He stumbled over his words, trying to understand the unbelievable truth he was just told. “Marzo, y-you know you’re crazy, right? _Nobody _is supposed to go into the forest, not even the Chieftain! We’re not even allowed anywhere near the border! All of us are absolutely forbidden from entering that place ever since-”

“The Battle of Mages and Warriors,” Marzo concluded for his brother. “Tapir, I already know we’re not supposed to go into the forest, but I’ve heard that song hundreds of times ever since I was a mere _child_. If it really does come from the Witches, then why haven’t they tried attacking us again?”

“You know we beat them in the Battle, Marzo. They know how strong we were and how weak we made them, even the ones who escaped. The Witches better than to mess with our tribe again.”

“The Battle happened hundreds of years ago! Hundreds of years is more than enough time for the Witches to regain at least _some _of their strength.”

“They’re just regaining whatever black magic strength they have! They might’ve lost the Battle hundreds of years ago, but once they get strong enough, they’ll be able to get rid of every single tribesperson, including you! The moment they find you wandering around in the forest, they’ll kill you before you know it yourself!”

“As far as you, me, and the entire tribe knows, the song could be some sort of peace offering or maybe even a cry for help. Would some music _really_ be as dangerous as death?”

Marzo felt his nerves heating up and paused, allowing them to cool before continuing. “Tapir, the Witches might not even be as bad as we think they are. It’s been hundreds of years. They might not even feel scornful about what we did to them anymore, and yet the tribe still avoids them as if they were some rotten plague. That’s why I’m going into the forest. I’m going to make allies with the Witches and prove to everyone they’re not so bad after all.”

All would become still until either of them said another word. The only sound in the scene was the soft howling of night winds, but Tapir would be the one to break the tense silence.

“Alright Marzo, you win,” he sighed, concern enveloping his voice, “but you do know you’re basically setting yourself up for a death wish, right?”

“Maybe it won’t turn out to be so bad after all.”

“Well, I’m still going to have to tell the Chieftain where you went off to.”

“I know. You always do that. Maybe that’ll turn out to be my real death wish.”

Tapir gave off a small chuckle, amused about his brother’s personality despite the serious situation. “You know I only do it because I care about you. By the way, don’t forget to bring your spear. Neither of us know what’s out there in the forest.”

“Already got it,” said Marzo, showing and waving his weapon to his brother. He then turned away, ready to begin his journey, but one last sentence yearned for his attention.

“Wait,” Tapir suddenly blurted, “I’ll take care of Sosuna and Mother Marna while you’re gone. And if it turns out you don’t come back… I’ll tell them you did this for everybody, especially them.”

Marzo showed his inner glee by giving nothing but a small yet joyful nod. “Please tell our family I loved them, especially little Sosuna. Goodbye, Tapir.”

“Farewell, Marzo.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tapir (to Marzo): Don't do it. Don't go into the forest. Do NOT go into the-  
> Chieftain (to Tapir): ...He went into the forest?


	2. The Forest

Now that his conversation with Tapir was over, Marzo was ready to depart. He tore himself from the safety and comfort of the tipi and, with his gaze toward the towering trees, made his way toward the forest. With every step, the mysterious noises of the night intensified, only increasing his nervousness. Going to the forest was one thing, but getting caught was another; Marzo knew there were watchmen awake at this time, acting as lookouts for their tribe while they slept soundly. Not wanting anyone to catch him in the act, he swiftly made his way to the edge of the woods. He detached himself from his home, its soft warmth still nearby. However, the promise of discovering the forest’s mysteries haunted him with the unknown. It glowered at him, the border of trees marking the point of no return, but a familiar sound returned to him. It was the melody, and as soon as he heard the miraculous song, all of his fears seemed to fade away.

_ Many fell to spears and flames  _

_ Magic could not help them now  _

_ Running away  _

_ To their dismay  _

_ Lest to the hunters they would bow  _

After hearing the heavenly voice sing its sweet song, Marzo’s soul felt revived. The tribesman no longer felt intimidated by the forest. The slow, creaking trees looming above ceased to imprison him, and the mysterious chatters and squeaks of the dark did not threaten him anymore. The song was his savior, the one who instilled boldness back into him, and he would find its source to thank it for its powers.

And so, with renewed courage flowing through him, Marzo entered the forest. While thorny bushes and thick foliage troubled his path, he began to notice the small yet elegant details of this domain. Soon enough, it felt more like fantasy than real life. Baby leaves danced in the moonlight and fluttered to the sprinkled pine needle floor below. Growing plants and fungi sprouted from the ground, their bright colors illuminated and enhanced in the shadows. The dense trees up above shuffled against each other as the soft breeze whispered to the tribesman, enticing him to wander deeper within the forest.

However, before he found himself lost within the wonders of the woods, Marzo’s distractions were swiftly taken away from him. The song had reappeared once again, and as if by instinct, he instantly stopped in his tracks, paying attention to the audio and hoping to track down its source.

_ Innocent ones hidden beyond  _

_ Invaders behind their sight  _

_ Forced to flee  _

_ A hunting spree  _

_ Destined to lose the fight _

Clutching onto his spear, Marzo broke into a run, sprinting through the forest with reckless abandon. He lept over fallen logs and dashed past mossy stones. Rows upon endless rows of trees dashed past his sight, making him lose his sense of direction. However, he paid no mind to it - He had pinpointed the location of the melody, and the tribesman would not allow it to flee from him again. Soon enough, he would finally be able to meet the singer of the song he longed to meet all his life.

_ Many fell to spears and flames  _

_ Magic could not help them now  _

_ Running away  _

_ To their dismay  _

_ Lest to the hunters they would bow _

Ultimately, Marzo was guided to a wide clearing, nearly stumbling to a stop. He was weary about how much he ran and was catching his breath, examining the new scene in front of him the meantime. The first thing the young man took note of was peculiar indeed: Within the center of a large clearing, moonlight shone down upon an immense pitch-black building. Every part of the structure was dark one way or another, such as its tall, tinted windows or its steep, midnight-colored roof. A tall steeple and a cross signified its front, and Marzo took one step toward it, curious as to why something as strange as this would be located within the forest. However, the blessed song interrupted and latched onto his attention yet again.

Innocent ones hidden beyond 

Invaders behind their sight 

Forced to flee 

A hunting spree 

Destined to lose the fight 

With the melody amplified more than ever before, Marzo realized it was definitely somewhere near him. There was no denying it. He quickly turned his gaze to-and-fro across the moonlit clearing, wanting to know where it was hiding from him. It wouldn’t take long for him to finally discover its unexpected source: A young girl clad in a simple yet formal black dress. She was singing the glorious tune in the stillness of the night as she picked berries from a bush spotted with red. Although her back was turned to the tribesman, her straight hair, as dark as the sky above, dangled from atop her head, and intrigue danced in Marzo’s head as he slowly approached her.

“Many fell to spears and flames, magic could not help them now. Running away, to their dismay, lest to the hunters they would bow.”

To Marzo’s amazement, the girl’s voice was the exact same as the one calling to him all his life. Was it possible she had more meaning in his life than he thought? Complex thoughts and questions formed in his mind as he came closer to her. She appeared to be a very strange girl indeed, clothed in black and picking berries in the dead of night, but there was a certain type of air around her. Although the tribesman was unable to put his finger on it, she _did_ sing the exact same lyrics to his dear melody. She was a true enigma indeed, a ghost of someone who vanished away from the earth only to get reborn once again. Before he became tangled up in his now maze of a mind, Marzo shook his head, wanting to remove some of these thoughts. Nonetheless, the tribesman couldn’t help himself from being strangely attracted to her somehow. He took interest in her baffling yet pleasant aura and slowly made his way over to the girl, not wanting to frighten her.

“Innocent ones hidden beyond, invaders behind their sight,” the girl hummed, “Forced to flee, a hunting spree, destined to lose the fight.” She plucked the bush’s scarlet berries one by one, tossing them into a small handheld wicker basket. Although she was still oblivious to Marzo’s presence, he decided it was a time as good as any to make his identity known. He shuffled closer to the girl as she continued to collect berries, and once he felt his timing had become perfect, he gave her his greeting.

“H-Hello,” Marzo said in a surprisingly meek voice, contrasting his normally adventurous personality. Despite his quiet tone, the girl immediately paused her activity to move her attention to the stranger before her. The tribesman gave her a small wave, hoping it would give himself off as friendly, but was afraid it would not help his first impression very much - His wild clothing was drastically different compared to the girl’s formal outfit. He looked nearly beastly in nature, certain he would’ve scared the young singer away, and yet, he didn’t.

In fact, a joyful smile grew on the girl’s face as she introduced herself. “Hello there, good sir! My name’s Aster.” She then gave out a pale, snowy hand over to him. “What’s yours?”

“Marzo,” he answered, reaching to her hand and shaking it.

“It’s nice meeting you in this part of the woods, Marzo. Is there anything I can help you with?”

In that moment, Marzo froze. He couldn’t just tell her, “Oh, I know that song you were singing just now. I’ve been hearing it all my life and finally decided to trek across a mysterious forest just to track it down.” How was he supposed to tell Aster she was the singer of the melody he’d been searching for? Composing his now frantic thoughts the best he could, Marzo attempted to confess a slim version of the truth.

“Um… I just wanted to say your singing is wonderful.” Although his statement was a slight white lie, the moonlight gleamed in Aster’s innocent eyes. “I overheard your song from outside the forest, and I must say it is a very pleasant melody.”

“You heard my song from _that_ far away?” Marzo’s words came as a surprise to Aster, and her bright gaze dulled when she suddenly broke eye contact with him. Her face became thoughtful, as if an abrupt realization brought a flood of thoughts crashing through her head and she was trying to reorganize all of them. Despite her slight moment of seriousness, Aster quickly focused back onto the young man, a spark of energy reigniting her cheerful look. “I knew I was a good singer and all, but I didn’t know I was that good! You must’ve _really_ liked it if you came all the way from outside the woods. It’s nothing too special though. It’s just a little ditty passed down from my kin…”

“Well, I’d love to hear more of it.” Wait, what was he saying? Marzo had already entered the forest, an act absolutely _forbidden _by his tribe. He did not want to converse more with this strange girl he met in an even stranger part of the wilderness, but his mind had less control over his heart than he thought. “It’s a very nice song, and I wouldn’t have come all this way for nothing.”

“Really?” The girl questioned, her cheeks warming up as faint rosy blushes appeared beneath the moonlight. A small nod from the tribesman told her all the answers she needed to see. “Well, okay… If you say so…” Aster cleared her throat and took a deep breath, ready to sing her song, only for an old, ancient voice to end her performance before it even started.

“Aster! Come back inside!” It croaked out into the silent world, then disappeared as swiftly as it arrived.

“Alright, Miss Zozo!” Aster yelled out as a response, then muttered displeasure under her breath. “Darn it, I thought I’d be able to sing to you the song of a lifetime…” The shine in her lovely eyes dimmed yet again as she felt her dream slipping away, but she soon found herself perking up, an excited grin overpowering her previously grim expression. “How about you eat dinner with us tonight? You wouldn’t want to go back home on an empty stomach, would you? Plus, Miss Zozo _loves_ visitors! She’d be more than glad to have you around to eat, and I can sing the song for you afterwards! It’d be dinner and a show! What do you say, Marzo?”

The tribesman’s rational side told him to decline Aster’s invitation and immediately return back to the tribe. Going into the forest, encountering such a strange person in such a strange place, then eating with whatever family she lived with… It felt much too abnormal to Marzo. However, this was the song’s singer he was talking to. Talking to her might as well be a once-in-a-lifetime chance. He concluded there was no way he was going to pass up on such an offer, especially since the melody left him mystified. Plus, if he may add, the young girl’s pure giddiness was all too adorable to say no to.

“Sure,” Marzo answered. “Why n-”

“Great!” Aster swiftly cut him off by snatching his free hand and leading him toward the front of the dark building. She didn’t seem to care when the tribesman nearly stumbled over because of her sudden act - Excitement flowed throughout her body like never before. “All you need to do is follow me as I bring you inside. Trust me when I say you made the right choice, Marzo. Everybody will be so happy to have you over!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aster: :)  
> Marzo: :)  
> Aster: ;)  
> Marzo: :D  
> Marzo (internally): o///.///o


	3. The Siren

Marzo kept himself silent as he made his way inside the building with Aster, but his concerns jumbled around in his mind. Would joining her for dinner _really _be the right choice? What would her family even be like? And what would’ve happened if he declined and decided to return to his tribe? His head was pained by confusing, ever so baffling thoughts, but he would soon be provided relief from his torment - With one swift push, Aster swung open the entrance door of her dark home and distracted him from his thoughts, displaying its exquisite interior for him to see.

Moonlight seeped through the building’s tall, tinted windows, brightening up the inside of Aster’s abode. It was decorated with the same gloomy, monochromatic shades as its exterior, but its most unique feature, its paintings, was not to be looked down upon. Portraits of a vast variety hung on the building’s heightened walls, highlighted by moonbeams. With the exception of their intricate silver borders, no hint of color was seen on them at all, consisting of purely black and white. However, this was not the strangest quality of the room. An elongated table, dressed in a pale, frilly snow-white cloth, stretched all the way across the spacious hall, ending just before it collided with the far wall and beginning at the entrance, where Marzo and Aster still stood.

Amazed by the sheer sight of the room, Marzo clutched onto his spear with all of his might, afraid that letting go would cause him to wake up from this magnificent dream. Although his eyes focused on absorbing every detail from this mysterious place, a simple squeeze from Aster’s hand swiftly brought his attention back down to earth. His cheeks flushed a pale red when he realized he had tightened his grip on the young lady’s palm and let go of her grasp immediately. However, she did not appear disturbed by his accident, and a pleasant smile splayed across her face as she turned to Marzo.

“It’s not overwhelming you or anything, right?” Aster asked, a hint of concern in her voice. “I know the inside’s big and fancy and all, so if it’s too much, we can just eat outside if you’d-”

“No,” Marzo swiftly responded, “I’m just fine. I was just surprised by how… astounding everything looks.” His face heated up as he turned his attention toward Aster’s dreamy eyes. He stared straight into them, and in that moment, he realized there was something he enjoyed about this girl. There was something he liked about her lovely appearance and even lovelier ways, and before he knew it himself, he found himself blushing even more. He would only begin to take note of his reddening appearance when Aster herself gave out a small yet adorable giggle.

“Alright, whatever you say, Mr. Marzo. Come on, you can sit down all the way at the back. The absolutely _best_ seat in the house is there, and Miss Zozo always says it’s good to be polite to any… unexpected guests.” A playful yet pleasant smirk appeared on Aster’s face, accompanied by a pair of delightful rosy cheeks. “Here, let me lead you there.”

Marzo held onto both his spear and Aster’s hand as the both of them made their way across the long room. The moonlight guided their path, making their trek relatively simple, but the tribesman had other things on his mind. He found himself constantly moving his eyes from one little detail of the room to the other. The windows, the portraits, the decor - Everything about this building was so familiar yet unfamiliar at the same time. It was mysterious, nothing like anything Marzo had seen before, and yet, here it was, hidden deep within the depths of the forbidden forest.

When the both of them had reached their destination, Aster proceeded with pulling the end chair back for her guest. It was an odd-looking seat, its noble design appearing like a king’s throne but contrasting with the building’s shadowy style. It seemed both royal and weird, but with the young girl gesturing to him to have a seat sit, Marzo found it impossible to disobey.

“Please, sit down,” Aster asked politely. “Since you’re my guest, let me ‘tend to your needs,’ as Miss Zozo would put it. In other words, let me get you something to drink before I have to go and help the others make dinner. I’ll be _right_ back.”

The young girl broke away from Marzo to head through a previously unnoticeable set of doors behind him. He thought it odd how he didn’t see the doors earlier - Perhaps they were hiding, camouflaged with the room’s grim walls - but he pushed the thought aside. Instead, he drifted his gaze to the plethora of paintings before him as they awaited his curious gaze. With Aster gone, ever if only for a moment, Marzo was able to take a closer look at the stories these portraits told.

The tribesman spotted a mischievous-looking man shooting a confident smirk his way. A smug, cocky smile was plastered on his face, and he wore a very unusual hat, a large plume sticking out atop of it. Marzo’s tribe referred to these types of beings as “pirates” or “swashbucklers.” He moved his gaze and discovered a solemn yet beautiful woman. Her gaudy, pompous headpiece took up most of her face, and to his knowledge, these characters were dubbed “princesses.” Despite waiting to see all of the many interesting images, one portrait intrigued Marzo the most. It was of a general clad in a bear-skin cape. Like a headdress, the animal’s head peeked out from atop the man while the rest flowed out behind him. His serious expression and familiar features prompted Marzo to study him. This person reminded him of his tribal kin, perhaps even too much. A surge of suspicion and concern rippled through Marzo as he analyzed the man. Could it be that this general once belonged to Marzo’s own tribe?

Before he was able to ponder more about this coincidental connection, the noise of soft, clacking footsteps caught his attention. Upon looking back, he noticed Aster had returned, bringing back a glass filled a scarlet-red hue. Her gait was bouncy with each step as she practically skipped toward her recipient, and she approached Marzo with a simple yet adorable little smile. The tribesman adored her cheerfulness, but little did he know it came at a cost - Before she knew it herself, Aster had tripped and was heading straight toward the floor. As acting on instinct, Marzo lunged out of his seat without delay to save the young girl, abandoning his grip on his spear to clutch onto her splayed arms. The only sound heard in the moment was the clatter of his weapon; Other than that, it was pure silence as he found himself staring deeply into Aster’s dark, enticing eyes. With the moonlight reflecting in them, their alluring qualities were only enhanced, and he felt his cheeks flush a deep red as those wonderful eyes of hers took over his heart. Suddenly, the small distance between Marzo and Aster felt tense, their feelings becoming as urgent as ever, and as the two of them slowly closed their shared space…

Aster pulled back, regaining an upright posture as she turned away from Marzo. The tribesman let go of her arms to allow her to move, but he knew she shared the same emotions as him. Her meek face, reserved stature, and the fact she refused to look at him - Even her now shy tone supposed this conclusion.

“Um… Thanks for saving me right there,” Aster murmured, brushing a lock of hair behind an ear. “I probably would’ve ended up face-planting on the floor if you didn’t save me. Thank you, Marzo.”

“No problem,” he replied with a whisper. She may not have heard his response, but he was quiet for a very good reason: With his heart beating furiously in his chest, face becoming hot to the touch, and nervousness attempting to rack his nerves, there was no doubt Marzo was now absolutely smitten with the girl who sang her way into his heart.

An awkward yet fortunately short silence would take over the scene until Aster became the first to speak. “Oh, by the way, here’s your drink.” She handed the crimson cup to Marzo, who graciously took it. “It’s the juice from those blood moon berries I was picking earlier. I don’t know if you’ve tried blood moon berries before, but if you haven’t, they are the _best_. They have a naturally perfect flavor to them, but I always like adding an extra kick of sweetness, as a treat. Anyway, now that you have that, I have to go help Miss Zozo and the others make the food in the back. Since we have a plus-one tonight, it might take a _little_ longer, but you’re patient, right, Marzo?” To Aster’s delight, her tribal guest nodded almost immediately. “Great! I promise you, Marzo, everybody’s going to be so happy you ate with us. By the way…” Her tone suddenly lowered to sound sultry, almost seductive in nature.

“You might want to pick up your spear there, big guy. You never know when you might need it.”

With a playful strut and a mischievous giggle, Aster left and passed through the doors yet again. When she did, Marzo found himself completely breathless. He stood where he was with quivering knees, nearly collapsing by her sheer personality. To Marzo, Aster was so peppy, so playful, so _perfect_. Every thought in his mind was about her and _only _her, as if she was the center of his world. With every thump of his heartbeat, Marzo yearned to be with Aster and her utterly flawless and charming attitude again, even for a short moment. Then an idea struck him: All he had to do was wait for her and contain himself until she came back. Sure, he wanted to be with her right away, but he _did _tell her he was patient. He wouldn’t want to be a liar to the one he loved. And so, with the drink still in his hand, Marzo tried keeping himself at bay long enough for the girl of his dreams.

However, his attempt to contain himself ended in vain - It was at this moment Marzo forgot about everything else. He was no longer curious about the room’s many portraits or concerned about his fallen spear. Not even the thought of returning to his seat intrigued him. No, the only person he was capable of thinking of was Aster and Aster alone. Bringing his gaze to the scarlet-filled cup, blessed by the young girl’s own hands, Marzo swiftly brought it close to him, as if he needed to protect it no matter what. The tantalizing scent of the juice smelled rich and sweet, and the young man savored it with every sniff. However, its smell would not be enough, and without thinking twice, he brought it up to his lips and drank every drop. It tasted delectable and sweet, just like Aster had said, and nearly felt like honey flowing down his throat. Before he knew it, Marzo had made the glass completely empty, and he could only lick his lips as he wished to enjoy more of the ever so wonderful blood moon berry juice.

However, a strange feeling began to overtake Marzo. With the glass in his hands, drowsiness began to overtake him. Half-lidded eyes blocked his sight, his nerves turned off one by one, and his love for Aster dissipated. His senses became sluggish, his limbs relaxed, and the tribesman gave one final yawn before collapsing on the floor below, the world around him becoming nothing but darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Don't worry, Marzo, the juice TOTALLY isn't spiked bloo- I mean wine." - Author's note~


	4. The Witches

_ Many fell to spears and flames  _

_ Magic could now help them now  _

_ Running away  _

_ To their dismay  _

_ Lest to the hunters they would bow  _

When Marzo awoke, he found himself in an entirely different situation. He was no longer at the grand hall of the mysterious building. None of the luxurious paintings lined the walls, and not one sliver of moonlight shone through the windows. In fact, there were no windows at all. Dark, musty bricks made up the walls surrounding him, and the only light available came from miniscule candles strewn around the corners of the chamber, their weary flames attempting to die out in the haunting darkness.

Immediately, the tribesman tried breaking free, waiting to escape from this grim place. He tried moving his limbs, but his attempts would prove to be fruitless - His arms and legs were splayed away from him, locked with iron chains binding them to the dungeon’s walls. Nonetheless, Marzo continued to try and tear away from the shackles imprisoning him, but was interrupted by a bizarre chant sounding around him.

“Innocent ones hidden beyond, invaders behind their sight. Forced to flee, a hunting spree, destined to lose the fight.”

The voices reverberated around the dungeon and were approaching Marzo from the shadows. Soon enough, he was able to indicate their true owners: Three simple silhouettes, one stubby, one lithe, and one average. However, despite their arcane auras, one of them felt all too familiar to the tribesman. Clad in what appeared to be a dress with long hair draping down its back, was it possible the slim shadow’s identity was actually… Aster?

“Many fell to spears and flames,” the voices continued, “magic could not help them now. Running away, to their dismay, lest to the hunters they would bow.”

“Aster, is that you?” Marzo interrupted, his voice full of distress as he tried tugging himself free. “Aster, you have to help me get out of this place!”

At the sound of Marzo’s voice, the shadows ceased their singing. However, one of them spoke up with a commanding tone.

“The Siren may now approach her prey,” a hoarse voice allowed, allowing the lithe silhouette to step out of the shadows and reveal its true form.

The moment it did, Marzo could not believe his eyes - Although it _was _Aster, the peppy girl he met, it took only one look on her face to know her cheerful attitude was no more. Her playful expression had left this world, leaving nothing but a grim, deathly serious look in its wake. Dark, malicious eyes pierced through Marzo’s soul, and a large knife was grasped in her hand, glinting in the candlelight.

This was not the sweet Aster Marzo once knew. No, this Aster was one of those cursed Witches, a fact he refused to accept.

“What have you damned Witches done with the real Aster?” A blaze of fury was fuming inside of the tribesman. He attempted to struggle free again, wanting to slay them right then and there, but his effort was of no avail - No matter how much he tried, he was unable to break free of the chains imprisoning him.

Marzo was trapped, with no way of escaping the Witches’ wrath.

“The Siren may now kill her victim,” the same rugged voice commanded, and Aster did what she was told. With one swift lunge, she seized Marzo’s neck with one hand and targeted his chest with the other. He struggled for breath as he choked, and could only watch as her blade hovered right above his heart. The young girl then shot him a crazed, demented look, drew back the knife, and…

“Wait!” The pained word barely escaped out of Marzo’s mouth. His attacker flinched at his sound, causing her to soften her grip on his throat, and the young man gasped as breath as it was returned to him. His lungs heaved as he regained as much air as he could, but that did not stop him from speaking from his now troubled mind. “Why do you want to kill me anyway? I haven’t done anything bad to you!”

“While you are correct about _that_ , tribesman, the actions of your ancient kin say otherwise.”

This voice sounded very serious and prim, and its true owner appeared to fit its noble role perfectly. The medium-sized silhouette, no longer concealed by the darkness, revealed itself to be a very dignified woman. The stern, almost intimidating look on her face was nothing to laugh at, and the high-class clothes she wore only supported it. She was clad in formal attire shaded with midnight, which, added with her stone-like posture, told Marzo she was _not_ a force to be messed with.

“You know what your people have done, tribesman,” the Witch said. “Someone like you should’ve been bright enough to stay away from us, but here you are, discovering our shelter to try and eradicate us for good.”

“What are you talking about, Witch?” Marzo grunted, still trying to break free.

“Do not fool with me, tribesman. I know you understood what I said. I see no reason to repeat myself, especially since someone like _you _should all too well about the incident between us long ago.”

“Are you talking about the Battle of Mages and Warriors?”

“Like I said, you know what I am talking about.”

“That fight happened ages ago!”

“Tribesman, close your mouth now and I will spare-”

“And you demonic Witches were the problem behind everything!”

“Shut it, you malevolent, no-good disgrace!” The Witch finally snapped under Marzo’s irritation. “Your nefarious tribe has delivered more than enough trouble to us! You and your kin are nothing but a source of pain and agony, and the land itself should know better than to bestow its nurturing gifts to you villains!”

Marzo froze, isolating his gaze toward the Witch’s enraged appearance. However, her serious demeanor would reappear as quickly as it vanished - Immediately after releasing her fury, she tore her attention away from the tribesman to face the third silhouette, expressing her immediate regret.

“Elder, I find it necessary to apologize for my emotions. I did not have proper control over them, and I deeply regret what I have done. I will be wary and watch them with utmost vigilance next time. Please find it in your heart to-”

“The Nova may be forgiven,” the shadow cut off in an old, patient voice. “However, I request to converse with the Siren’s prey as well.”

“Thank you, Elder. Your request shall be granted.”

As soon as she spoke her words, the Nova turned to Marzo again, her glare piercing through his being like daggers. “Consider yourself lucky, tribesman,” she whispered, an acute sharpness in her tone. “I may be excused, but the Elder is _not_ a Witch to be trifled with.” She then slinked back into the darkness, her hostile, predatory gaze locked onto Marzo as if he were her prey. The Nova’s wrathful watch troubled Marzo to his very core, but his troubles were far from over. He forced his attention off of her to look at the Elder, the stubby yet final Witch awaiting him.

Unlike the other two Witches, the Elder appeared as if she’d come from a time long forgotten. Although her clothes were as black as night, mystical even in the candlelight, the cloak she wore was strange indeed. Even her headwear was out of fashion - Wearing a pointed yet crooked hat atop her head, the Elder seemed iconic yet unfamiliar at the same time. Nonetheless, her ancient, drooping face was all Marzo needed to see to know she had more experience than the Nova and Aster combined. If he was lucky, she would hold back from using whatever powerful wretched magics she had, but alas, the tribesman was imprisoned by the iron chains, only capable of watching her moves.

The Elder purposely took her time inching to the vulnerable Marzo, one feeble step at a time. As she did, a friendly yet suspicious grin stretched across her face, and she wriggled out a ghastly, scrawny twig of an arm out from a sleeve. She used her wiry fingers to gingerly lower Aster’s once threatening stance, which had stayed frozen in time. Soon enough, the young girl stood in a neutral state: Aster stood straight, aimed her head toward her prey’s, and continued to clutch the sharp knife in her hand.

Marzo’s heart ached upon being forced to see Aster like this, but his mind was swift to remind him of the truth: Aster was not the precious singer he adored. She never was. Instead, she was a Witch, a dark, hollow, abandoned shell of the girl she disguised herself to be. He fought back tears as he struggled to defy the unthinkable. He became anguished by pangs of angst and grief, and his gaze could only look in despair as it moved to the age-old Witch before him.

“Tell me your name, tribesman.” The Elder requested, her gravelly tone full of curiosity.

“Marzo,” the tribesman responded in a frail, fragile voice.

“Marzo, I am Zozo, the Elder. The other two Witches with us are Soluna, the Nova, and Aster, the Siren. Though, I’m sure you know at least who one of them are.” She gave out a raspy chuckle, hurting Marzo to be reminded of his loss of Aster even more. “I would like to ask you a question, tribesman: Tell me, what do you know about this ‘Battle?’ ”

“The Battle of Mages and Warriors?”

“Yes, I believe that was what you called it.”

Marzo hesitated. Why was someone like _her _curious about the life-changing clash between their groups? “Wasn’t that the fight between my tribe and you... Witches?”

“Please, explain it to me, boy. I do enjoy listening to such fine stories.”

Due to him talking to a Witch, flesh and all, the tribesman had no time to wonder about his thoughts, and he thought it wise to comply with the Elder’s request. “Well… the Battle of Mages and Warriors happened hundreds of years ago. It was a historic event between two different groups: The tribe and the Witches. From what I know, the tribe lived peaceful lives until the Witches arrived. They appeared out of nowhere, but they instantly became the tribe’s enemies. Because of them, everything became chaos: Tents were burned down, innocent people were slaughtered, and the entire tribe turned to shambles. However, the tribe’s most heroic warriors sacrificed their remaining strength to defeat the Witches, and as if the blessed Mother of the Goddess herself was on their side, they won. Their strength proved to be too much for the Witches, and they ran away into the forest, banishing their presence for good.”

Zozo stared at Marzo with watchful eyes, allowing a still moment of silence to pass before finally giving out a small chuckle. “Marzo, you’re quite the storyteller indeed, but I’m afraid everything about that tale is wrong.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Marzo: Aster, let me see what you have!  
> Aster: A knife!  
> Marzo: No! 
> 
> (Soluna and Zozo: :) )


	5. The Melody

Upon hearing her words, the tribesman immediately became confused. The Battle of Mages and Warriors was history, but it was 100 percent _fact_. It was something he, his kin, and even his kin’s kin had been taught over the course of lifetimes. How could something as important as the Battle of Mages and Warriors be false?

To his realization, it appeared the Elder knew her own version of the truth.

Zozo’s once welcoming smile turned sour, morphing into a now grim, serious frown. “Tribesman, the Battle of Witches and Tribes _did_ occur, but that is not the true story. Then again, I suppose it would only make sense if someone like you were taught the wrong way… But I believe someone like you deserves to start living in this bitter reality. You see, Marzo, the Witches were this land’s true natives. They used magic to improve their lives and were nothing but simple and friendly. They would have evolved into the greatest of their kind… were it not for the tribe. They appeared seemingly out of nowhere, but they wanted nothing but one thing and one thing only: Territory. Bolstered by their strength, the tribe nearly eradicated the Witches. They attacked with spears as sharp as thorns and used flames that burned homes into nothingness. Not even their magic could put an end to the unstoppable force that was the tribe. As a result, their numbers dwindled to nearly none, so they escaped, running away into the forest. However, because of the tribe’s damage, the survivors would never be able to use their magic again, so the Witches made a vow: They swore to slay any member of the tribe they encountered in their woodland home, whether man, woman, or child. Their promise would remain unbroken to this very day, acting as a reminder of the unnecessary hardships they were forced to go through.”

Once the Elder concluded her interpretation of the tale, Marzo gaped at her with astonished eyes. Was his tribe _really_ the true villain behind the Battle? Or was it the Witches, the ones clad in midnight and living among the shadows? Conflicted about which was the true myth, the tribesman dared to challenge the Witch about which one was fact and which one was merely fiction.

“I admit, your story was impressive,” he said, “but how do I know you didn’t just make up some random legend?”

The needle-sharp glare Zozo shot him told Marzo he had made a dreadful mistake. “You believe that was _made-up_? Why, the scars say it all, Marzo. The proof is always in the scars.”

“What scars? I don’t see any scars-”

“Inner scars, boy!” She suddenly blurted, her voice reverberating throughout the dusky dungeon chamber. “Only people who have experienced the sheer horror of that clash could explain it as if it happened only yesterday! The Battle of Witches and Tribes haunts my memories to this day, all because of what you and your cursed tribe did to us! Their rabid faces, their bloodthirsty war cries, the carnage and destruction they left in their wake - You and your tribe are murderers, boy, and the Witches’ revenge has yet to be fizzled out.”

Before Marzo said anything else, the Elder turned her attention to Aster. The young girl remained frozen in her neutral position until the Witch gave her one final command.

“The Siren may now kill her prey.”

With a terrifying gleam in her eyes, Aster was quick to reanimate. She locked eyes with Marzo and drew her knife back, ready to strike. However, Zozo paused her with the lift of her palm, saying one simple request to the tribesman before his untimely doom.

“Any last words, Marzo?”

With wide, terrified eyes, Marzo found himself struggling to compose his now crazed thoughts. A song he’d heard all his life led him to the Witches. Aster, a young Witch known as the Siren, was about to kill him, despite her singing snatching his heart away. Even so, it turned out the Witches were the good ones all along. Worst of all, everything he had known about his life was a lie. The Battle, his tribe, even his own kin - Marzo believed every false truth taught to him.

Tears streamed down Marzo’s face as he stared straight into Aster’s dull, emotionless eyes. She was the one who sang the mystical melody he loved all his life, and if there was one last thing he wanted in this world, he knew what it would be.

“I wish to hear Aster’s song one last time.”

“What? It must be my age - I’m getting so old, I must be hearing things. Repeat that again, boy.”

“I want to hear Aster’s song again.” The tribesman said, shifting his head toward the Elder.

“What song?” The Elder asked, sounding clueless.

“The one Aster - Sorry, the _Siren _\- was singing. ‘Innocent ones hidden beyo-’ ”

“Shush,” The Elder suddenly hissed at Marzo, instantly quieting him. Thinking carefully, she stared at the tribesman with an ever so sharp gaze, Then, in a moment of decisiveness, she made a small snap with her ghostly white palm, prompting Aster to close her crazed eyes and sing the melody.

“Innocent ones hidden beyond, invaders behind their sight,” the young Witch crooned in her angelic voice. “Forced to flee, a hunting spree, destined to lose the fight. Many fell to spears and flames, magic could not help them now. Running away, to their dismay, lest to the hunters they would bow.”

Despite his doomed situation - The song’s shortness, his tribe’s secrets, and his upcoming fate by the Witches - Marzo made a small yet sweet smile on his face. He then looked at the Elder again, tears of happiness streaking down it. “Thank you, Zozo,” his choked up voice managed to get out. “I believe I feel ready for my death now.”

However, Marzo would not die just yet. With a cyclone of baffled thoughts now going through her mind, the Elder glared at him with watchful eyes. It would not take long for her to conclude perhaps there was more to this tribesman than she thought.

“Tell me what you know about our melody, Marzo,” the Elder requested.

“What?”

“Who told you about the Witches’ Song? _How _can you hear the Witches’ Song? Tell me everything.”

“Weren’t you just about to kill me?”

“Just answer the question.”

“Why do I need to tell you anything if I’m going to die anyway?”

With her frustration reaching its boiling point, the Elder shifted her tone into a yell, pointing a bony yet firm finger right at Marzo’s face. “This is no time for games! Tell me when in the _world _you first heard our song, boy, or I swear, by the love of the First Witch, I will end you right here, right now.”

Although the Elder’s threat loomed right in front of Marzo, he thought it wise to comply with her request and gain just a few more moments of life. “I first heard it when I was young,” the tribesman began with frightened confidence. “I was only a child when I first heard the melody. I loved it the moment I heard it, but I knew it came from the forest; My tribe banned anyone from entering it. Whenever I tried telling the others about, nobody would believe me, not even my own family. Well, maybe Mother knew something about it, but…”

“But what? Finish your sentence, boy.”

“...I remember Mother would always hum the song when she took care of me. When I started to hear it myself, I would always ask her where she learned it from, but she would always dismiss it or claim it was something she made up. That made me believe she was lying, but Mother Marna was probably only trying to look out for me.

“Interesting…” Zozo’s voice would drop to a mutter as she compiled her thoughts. “This is very intriguing indeed, but… No, it can’t be… Wait, what did you say your mother’s name was again?”

“Marna. Her name was Marna.”

The moment the name was repeated, the Elder’s dreadful eyes widened in amazement. As if she had made a vital realization, she shot her attention to-and-fro from Marzo to the Nova, who was still in the darkness. Soluna stayed within the shadows, but her watchful gaze was turned into an expression that copied Zozo’s. Soon enough, both Witches would fasten their attentions toward the tribesman.

“Marzo, tell me about your ancestors.” The Elder requested. “Do you have any other kin whose names started with the letter M? Or, at the very least, can you remember any other similar names in that head of yours?”

“Well, if you want the truth, Muella was Grandmother’s name. Merine was Great-Grandmother’s, and Mozzina was Great-Great-Grandmother’s.”

“Anybody else?”

“I’m afraid that’s all I know.”

Although the Elder wished to learn all of the information about Marzo’s family, the knowledge she gathered tonight would be more than enough to suffice. A wicked grin spread across her ancient face as she let out a raspy chuckle.

She would reveal the secret that would change Marzo’s life forever.

“Tribesman, if all the details fit together perfectly, I’d say you’re the descendant of a Witch.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Me? Revealing lore and including a plot twist? It's more likely than you think. (Click Next Chapter to find out more.) - Author's note


	6. The Descendant

“W-What?” Marzo was quick to blurt out his response. “Me, related to one of you dastardly Witches? Those words are nothing but a lie, Zozo! I was born and raised in a tribe all my life, and I am nothing else but a pure-blooded tribesman!”

“You tribespeople must _really _be ignorant. Why, I’ll even dare to say you share some similarities with dear old Mizzipha… Her title was the Huntress, you see, which I suppose could be compared to your tribal upbringing. Mizzi was always so rash and reckless, but so daring at the same time… I even remember she risked her life during the Battle of Witches and Tribes. The others fled to the forest while she stayed behind to defend and fight for our survival. However, she never came back. None of us knew she would end up sacrificing herself and her life as a Witch to be made captive by…”

Zozo’s words died off, tapering into a tone of gloom as the dreadful memories returned to her. She broke her attention away from Marzo as the feeling of pain swarmed around her head. Vengeance, loss, fury, regret - A wild concoction of emotions strained her mind, but the Elder knew better than to give in to them.

In fact, she knew exactly how to express them.

“Say, Marzo, how would you like to hear the third verse of the Witches’ Song?”

“T-There’s a third verse?”

“Of course! It’s just a special verse exclusive to a special rite and ritual performed by us Witches. Well, they could be for _half_ -blooded Witches too, I suppose. Plus, if Aster told me is correct, you came all the way into the forest to find the source of our melody? I’m certain someone like you especially deserves to hear its final verse.” The Elder’s voice dropped to a sharp whisper when she concluded with one final sentence.

“And you deserve to be an honorable sacrifice to Mizzipha the Huntress as well.”

Shooting one last icy glare to the tribesman, Zozo merged back in the shadows alongside Soluna. It was there she gave Aster full permission to execute her order, her ancient voice emboldened as ever.

“The Siren may sing the Witches’ Song with us as she may now kill Marzo the Descendant.”

Aster automatically returned to her savage state, grasping onto Marzo’s neck yet again. The tribesman choked for air as he struggled, the iron chains rattling as he tried breaking free, but it was no use - No matter what he did, he failed.

_ Now hidden in secrecy, beyond life  _

_ Never forgetting what they fought  _

Everything Marzo had known was corrupted, destroyed, or both. The tune that eluded him all of his life ended up belonging to the Witches, his own mortal enemy. Aster, the blessed singer of the song, was a devil in disguise, her true identity a Witch named the Siren. His own tribe, the very people who raised him, shaped him into the person he was today, deceived him about their true role in the Battle of Witches and Tribes. They chose to live in their own false reality and never spoke one word about the truth, not one, their legacy of lies continuing to this day.

And here he was, Marzo the Descendant, shackled within his own kin’s lair as his life, now broken and betrayed, was approaching its end.

_ They must all die  _

_ This is no lie _

Marzo stared straight into the Siren’s deathly eyes, his despairing gaze connecting with her own. He knew all too well the young girl before him was no longer Aster. She was never the strange yet innocent girl who sang the song that won over his heart. Any remnant of her enticing, lovable past self was gone, erased from existence. This Witch was no longer Aster. No, she was the Siren, a being who showed no remorse to her tribal enemies, no matter their origins.

The very being who would cause the Descendant’s death.

_ Tribal ends will be brought _

With the knife clutched tightly in her hand, the Siren took aim and plunged the blade deep within Marzo’s chest. Her target was his heart, and she made a direct hit; His eyes began to turn dark the moment she made her strike. Crimson blood smothered her blade, threatening to spill out as she slowly drew it out of her victim. When she finally did, rivers of red overflowed out of his being, spewing onto the dungeon’s stone-cold floor and slowly dripping the scarlet excess down his dying body.

The melody was calling to him again. It beckoned to him, the heavenly song wishing to finally be with him. He opened his mouth to call out to it, to tell it he would be coming, but no noise came out of his mouth, nor will he make any noise ever again.

Marzo has taken his final breath.

Memories flashed in his mind as he succumbed to his fate. Memories of his tribe, of Tapir, Sosuna, Mother Marna, and the Chieftain. Memories of the forest and of the Witches that inhabited there: Aster, the Siren, Soluna, the Nova, and Zozo, the Elder. Memories of the twisted truth of the Battle of Mages and Warriors. Memories of the unbelievable reality of the Battle of Witches and Tribes.

And memories of the Descendant’s life as a half-Witch tribesman, the final thing Marzo would remember before darkness took its place forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Magic and prey  
> Night and day  
> In the end, there was just one  
> Good and bad  
> Thinking about what we had  
> Wondering what our lives have become" 
> 
> ("Totally not a rhyme I made up I made up right now... - Author's note)


End file.
